visit of homage. They considered
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Machinations around the Throne that to be even more advisable since the people saw Eudoxia as a saint who had been sacrificed for reasons of State. There was only one hitch, but it was a sizeable one: wouldn’t Menshikov be furious if they took such an initiative without consulting him? Specialists in public issues discussed the matter gravely. Some suggested taking advantage of the young tsar’s upcoming coronation, scheduled to take place in Moscow early in 1728, to set up a historic meeting between the grandmother (embodying the past) and the new tsar (embodying the future). Ostermann, Dolgoruky and other characters of lesser stature were already addressing messages of devotion to the old tsarina and requesting her support in future negotiations. But Eudoxia, immured in her prayers, fasting and memories, ignored the courtiers’ agitation. She had suffered too much already from the contaminated atmosphere of the palaces to wish for any other reward than peace in the light of the Lord.
While the grandmother was aspiring to eternal rest, the grandson, his head on fire, was spinning out of control. But it was not the illusion of grandeur that haunted him. Worlds away from the legendary babushka, Elizabeth was leading him from one party to another. Hunting meets alternated with impromptu picnics, with a roll in the hay at some rustic cottage, with reveries in the moonlight. A light perfume of incest spiced the pleasure Peter took in caressing his young aunt. There’s nothing like guilt to save lovemaking from the tedium of habit. If you play by the rules, relations between a man and a woman quickly become as tiresome as doing one’s duty. That conviction must have been what encouraged Peter to throw himself into parallel experiments with Ivan Dolgoruky. In thanks for the intimate satisfactions that Ivan gave him, Peter - with the approval of Elizabeth - named him chamberlain and awarded him the Order of St. Catherine, which was reserved, theoretically, for ladies.
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Terrible Tsarinas The people at court were outraged and the foreign diplomats were quick to comment, in their dispatches, on His Majesty’s two-way escapades. They were already prepared to bury His Most Serene. Little did they suspect how great was Menshikov’s physical resistance. Suddenly, he popped up again in the midst of this circus of ambitious and sexual maneuvering. Did he think he could just raise his voice, and the troublemakers would run for shelter? Hardly. By now, Peter II had gotten the upper hand. He would no longer tolerate anyone, including his future father-inlaw, thwarting his desires. In front of Menshikov - stunned and close to apoplexy - he howled, “I will show you who is master, here!”5 This outburst reminded Menshikov of the terrible rages of his former mas ter, Peter the Great. Understanding that it would be imprudent to defy a lamb that had gone mad, he pretended to see this fury as nothing but a late childish tantrum, and departed Peterhof, where Peter had received him so badly, to convalesce at his property at Oranienbaum. Before leaving, he took care to invite all the assembled company to a reception that he was planning to host in his country residence in honor of the tsar and to celebrate his own recovery. But Peter II persisted and, under the pretext that His Most Serene did not invite Elizabeth by name, refused to attend. To underscore his displeasure, he openly went out with his aunt to hunt big game in the surroundings.
Throughout this semi-hunting, semi-romantic escapade, he wondered what was going on at the celebrations dreamed up by Menshikov. Wasn’t it strange that none of his friends had followed his example? Was their fear of displeasing Menshikov so strong that they preferred to displease the tsar? In any case, he didn’t worry much about the feelings of Maria Menshikov, who seemed to have gone from intended-bride to back-on-the-shelf.
On the contrary, as soon as Menshikov’s guests were back from
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Machinations around the Throne Oranienbaum, he questioned them avidly on how the Serene One had seemed during the festivities. Pressed to speak their minds, they told him everything, in detail. They insisted, in particular, on the fact that Menshikov had pushed his insolence to the point of sitting, in their presence, on the throne prepared for Peter II. To hear them tell it, their host, consumed with pride, conducted himself in every way as though he were the master of the empire. Ostermann declared that he was offended as much as if it had been him that the Serene One had slighted. The next day, taking advantage of an absence of Peter II, who had gone out hunting with Elizabeth, Ostermann received Menshikov at Peterhof and reproached him, in a dry tone, in the name of all the sincere friends of the imperial family, for his unseemly conduct towards His Majesty. Piqued by these remonstrances from a subordinate, Menshikov took umbrage and returned to St. Petersburg, contemplating a revenge that would forever remove the desire to plot against him from this scheming band.
Arriving at his palace on Vasilievsky Island, he was stunned to see that all of Peter II’s furniture had been removed and transported to the Summer Palace (Peterhof) where the tsar, he was informed, intended to reside from now on. Outraged, the Most Serene Prince rushed to the headquarters of the Guard to demand an explanation from the officers charged with keeping watch over the tsar. All the sentinels had already been relieved and the station chief announced, with an air of contrition, that he was only following imperial orders. Apparently, there was another hand pulling the strings. What might have looked, at first, like the whim of a prince seemed, in fact, to signal a final breakdown. For Menshikov, this was the collapse of an edifice that he had been building for years and that he had believed to be as solid as the granite of the quays along the Neva.
What a catastrophe! Who was behind it? There could be no
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Terrible Tsarinas doubt. Alexis Dolgoruky and his son, the ravishing and underhanded Ivan, must have masterminded it all. How could Menshikov save whatever might still be salvageable? Should he beg for leniency from those who had cut him down, or turn to Peter and try to plead his cause directly? Even as he pondered these unpalatable options, he heard that the tsar, having joined his aunt Elizabeth at the Summer Palace, had convened the members of the Supreme Privy Council and that he was discussing with them what additional sanctions should be taken. The verdict came down before the defendant could even prepare his defense. Most probably egged on by Elizabeth, Natalya and the Dolgoruky clan, Peter ordered the Serene One arrested. When Major General Simon Saltykov came to inform him of his condemnation, Menshikov could only write a letter of protest and justification, which he doubted would ever be transmitted to the intended recipient.
The next day the charges began to mount, increasingly iniquitous, increasingly defamatory. Stripped of his titles and privileges, Menshikov was exiled to his own estate, for life - in other words, he was permanently grounded. With whatever possessions he could throw together on the spot, the condemned left St.
Petersburg by slow caravan - and no one came out to see him off.
He who had been everything, yesterday, was a nonentity today.
His most enthusiastically obliged friends became his worst enemies. And the tsar’s hatred continued unabated. At every stage along the road, a missive from the palace announced a new disgrace for him. At Vyshny- Volochok came an order to disarm the deposed favorite’s servants; at Tver, it was announced that he had taken too many servants, horses and carriages - those in excess were to be returned to St. Petersburg; at Klin came the order to confiscate from Miss Maria Menshikov, ex-fiancee of the tsar, the ring by which he had pledged his troth; and finally, at the approaches to Moscow, came an order to by-pass the old city of
